


Black Cat

by Laylah



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Alchemy, Antagonism, M/M, Power Dynamics, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-14
Updated: 2007-07-14
Packaged: 2017-10-21 09:34:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/223725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laylah/pseuds/Laylah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greed lifts one hand, and then the reaction starts: transmutation crackles over his skin, so raw and potent it makes Kimberly shiver, and Greed’s hand turns clawed, alien, carbon-rich black. Kimberly reaches out to touch it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black Cat

  
_Your love is like combat_   


Kimberly claims a room to himself as soon as they break into the old farmhouse. He’s used to solitude, and the chimeras aren’t exactly desperate to spend more time around him.

Greed’s another matter. Kimberly can hear his footsteps in the hall, can feel the prickle of alchemical power that surrounds him even before he can pick out Greed’s features in the gloom. It raises the hairs on the back of Kimberly’s neck, makes his palms itch.

“What do you want?” Kimberly asks. He thinks he knows. Greed hasn’t been subtle about staring at him, about _flirting_ with him.

“You,” Greed says, stepping forward, into the dying sunlight from the half-boarded window.

“Not interested.” Kimberly can feel himself tensing as Greed steps closer. His prison uniform doesn’t feel like nearly enough protection.

Greed smiles. “I could change your mind.”

“I don’t get fucked,” Kimberly says flatly. “And I’ll kill you if you try.” He flexes his hands. “As many times as it takes.”

Greed smiles, and keeps advancing. “You don’t, maybe, but I do. That’s no problem.” He stops way too close, and his eyes glitter in the fading light, slitted like a cat’s and just as remorseless. “What’s it going to take to get you interested in fucking me?”

It’s been long enough that sex actually sounds good, instead of just like a waste of time. Maybe.

Kimberly licks his lips. He can practically taste the force that animates Greed’s artificial body. “What do you do with all that power?” he asks hoarsely. “Apart from not dying when you should.”

Greed lifts one hand, and then the reaction starts: transmutation crackles over his skin, so raw and potent it makes Kimberly shiver, and Greed’s hand turns clawed, alien, carbon-rich black. Kimberly reaches out to touch it.

“Don’t stop,” he says. “More.” Greed shrugs out of his vest, and Kimberly steps closer, resting both hands on Greed’s arm as the transmutation continues. It feels incredible, intoxicating, hunger crawling over his skin as he feels the change happen. The carbon sheath crawls all the way up Greed’s arms, and then keeps going, coating his neck, his head, until all his skin is transformed and he’s a hulking, black, monstrous shape marked in red.

“You like what you see,” Greed says. It’s not a question.

“That shouldn’t be possible,” Kimberly says. He can’t remember the last time he got this hard without detonating anything.

Greed can’t smile like this—his teeth are already bared. But he laughs, softly, reaching out to rest one clawed hand on Kimberly’s hip. “You’re not complaining.”

“Not much,” Kimberly agrees, and Greed’s fingers flex, claws catching in his thin shirt and pulling, and the cotton tears easily, sharp deadly points just grazing his skin as the cloth falls away in ribbons and Greed could tear _him_ apart with that little effort and he shouldn’t, god, he shouldn’t be hard for this.

“How do you want me?” Greed asks, voice a low, rumbling purr as he steps closer, ink-black and unbearably solid, resting one hand at the small of Kimberly’s back and reaching down with the other to cup his hard cock through his trousers. “Should I suck you first?”

Kimberly laughs a little, breathlessly. “Like that?” He reaches up and touches the hard, sharp points of Greed’s teeth. “There’s a difference between crazy and stupid.”

Greed shifts, slides behind him, that one hand still pressed against his cock and the other drifting up over his bared chest. The monster’s body is warm against his back, breath hot against his ear: “Do you want me to change back?”

“No,” Kimberly breathes. Greed nuzzles at his shoulder like an overgrown, deadly cat. “I want to fuck you like that.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Greed purrs. He slides his fingers carefully under the waistband of Kimberly’s trousers, and pulls. The drawstring pops, and then the fabric tears. As the remains drift to the floor, Kimberly reminds himself that the ink on his palms is better protection than cloth could ever be.

“You, too,” he says. He turns in Greed’s arms, tugs at the top button of Greed’s leather trousers. “Does the shield go all the way?”

“It can.” Greed toes his shoes off as Kimberly works at his buttons, then steps back to push his trousers down. The transmutation light follows in the wake of the leather, bare flesh visible for a second before it’s covered again. When the change is complete, he barely looks real, much less like he could have passed for human. His feet have the same exaggerated claws as his hands, and the musculature of his legs stands out in sharp relief. There’s another pair of red nodes just below his hipbones, anchoring thin lines of power that wrap around his hips. His cock is thick and hard and imposing, and he runs his claws up the underside when he catches Kimberly looking at it. “You sure you don’t want some of this?”

“Fuck you,” Kimberly says dismissively. Greed is quite simply the most impressive alchemical artifact he’s ever seen, and the idea that he could bury his _cock_ in all that power—fuck, there’s not much else he could want from this evening. He’s out of prison, warm enough, decently fed, and now he’s getting the chance not only to examine but to _fuck_ a homunculus.

Greed drops into a crouch, leaning forward to nuzzle at Kimberly’s thigh. “Come on, then. What are you waiting for?” He looks bestial, raw-boned and muscular, bare fangs slick against Kimberly’s skin.

“Bed,” Kimberly says hoarsely. He bruises easily these days, and even if the wooden floor of the room isn’t as bad as the stone of his cell, it’s bad enough. “I didn’t blast my way out of prison just to ignore the luxuries of freedom.”

Greed laughs. “Of course not.” He crawls across the floor on his hands and knees, making a show of it, making it somehow elegant and leonine.

“Someday,” Kimberly says, following him, running one hand up the back of Greed’s thigh, “you’ll have to tell me how you were made.”

“Is that a compliment?” Greed asks, arching his back. His knees are spread, and his weight rests on his elbows.

“Maybe.” Kimberly lets his fingers keep exploring, brushes the cleft of Greed’s ass. “You want something to slick up with, you’d better have a suggestion.”

Greed writhes, pushing back against his hand. “Spit’s fine. Hell, you’re an alchemist. You’ll probably like it if you hurt me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kimberly asks, kneeling on the bed. He thinks of Mustang, of Armstrong, of Marcoh—of all the reluctant killers in the State Alchemist corps.

“You’ll see,” Greed says. “Come on.”

Kimberly spits in his hand and gives his cock a few cursory strokes. He still doesn’t quite have full motion back in his wrists, but he’s getting there, especially when he can manage to ignore the aches from the shackle scars.

He wouldn’t have thought the shield would be penetrable here, especially since the homunculus doesn’t need to eat and thus must not have a living creature’s digestive system. Maybe it’s consciously controlled, then—Greed wants to be fucked, so his defenses cooperate.

Kimberly pushes, and there’s barely any give to Greed’s body at all, muscles so tense and unyielding that it almost feels like he doesn’t want this. “You’re tight,” Kimberly says appreciatively, and pushes harder.

Greed snarls, a low, threatening, animal sound, as Kimberly forces his way in deep. “There,” he growls, “told you you’d like it.”

“What are you—oh,” Kimberly says, steadying himself with a hand on Greed’s hip as he feels alchemy crackle around the base of his cock, healing the damage he’s done to Greed’s flesh. “Fuck, that’s good.” The power, he realizes, is moving through the red lines that mark the shield. He leaves his left hand where it is, bracing him, and reaches up to press the palm of his right against the node between Greed’s shoulderblades.

When the array touches that spot, Greed hisses like a trapped cat, his claws tearing at the sheets, his whole monstrous form shuddering. “Hha, what the fuck are you doing?”

“Getting off,” Kimberly says. He flexes his thighs, starting to thrust. “How about you?”

Greed’s answer doesn’t even sound human, raw and growling and fierce, almost like a noise of pain. Kimberly’s array tingles against the node, sparking little tremors up his arm, and he shivers, sliding his other hand forward along the arch of hipbone to press against the node there, too.

It’s a fucking feedback loop like this, he realizes, two specialized arrays pressing up against each other and fighting for power, hissing and crackling. He can hear his own breathing, harsh and loud, over the little animal snarls that Greed makes, sounds that might be attempts at words, but he doesn’t listen too closely, in case the words are supposed to be _no_ or _stop it_.

The pain’s getting worse the longer he holds on, energy singing along his nerves, building up—and the way Greed moves Kimberly can’t tell if he’s trying to get fucked harder or trying to throw Kimberly off—and it’s starting to make the shield flicker, carbon peeling back from Greed’s hands in a jagged, angular pattern—and it’s almost unbearable now, but so fucking sweet—and then Greed convulses around him and everything goes shivery static, Kimberly’s eyes squeezing shut and white light down his spine and his hands slip but the relief from the pain is just one more release and he tries to stay quiet but he doesn’t quite manage.

When he opens his eyes, Greed looks about half-human again, panting under him, sheened with sweat. He rocks back, pulling out, and realizes that he’s trembling right down to the bone. It’s still too soon for this kind of shit; prison took too much of his strength.

Greed collapses into the sheets, rolling over to look up at him. “Not bad at all,” he says, and the casual tone almost hides the hint of wariness in his eyes.

“Sure, just make yourself at home,” Kimberly says, lowering himself gingerly to lie beside the monster. Greed’s warm, and the shield, where it’s still up over his chest and stomach, is smooth as satin.

“Thanks,” Greed says, wrapping one muscular arm around Kimberly’s shoulders. “I’ll do that.”

Kimberly sighs in annoyance. Trust Greed to think he meant it. But he reaches up, lets his fingertips brush the node at Greed’s collarbone, and Greed almost—almost—flinches. Kimberly closes his eyes. It’s comfort enough.


End file.
